


Unexpected

by IndigoDream



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon, Bottom Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Creature Jaskier | Dandelion, Dirty Talk, First Kiss, Fluff and Smut, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Love Confessions, M/M, Porn with Feelings, Teasing, Top Jaskier | Dandelion, Witcher's stamina is a perk and jaskier loves it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:08:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27335443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IndigoDream/pseuds/IndigoDream
Summary: Jaskier hadn't quite expected this. He had expected Geralt to be a bit more reluctant at falling in bed with the bard. After all, he kept insisting that they weren't friends, but now...Jaskier merely had to mention having a dry spell with the ladies, and not wanting to spend any coin at the local brothel after they had refused to let Geralt in, for Geralt to grunt out that he could just fuck anyone he wanted, so why even bother with a brothel?
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 19
Kudos: 480





	Unexpected

**Author's Note:**

> This is horny, and then it gets soft, and then sorta back to horny? those boys are wired to be into each other what can i say 
> 
> also smut is not my usual genre so forgive any awkwardness lmao 
> 
> I hope yall enjoy this!

Jaskier hadn't quite expected this. He had expected Geralt to be a bit more reluctant at falling in bed with the bard. After all, he kept insisting that they weren't friends, but now... 

Jaskier merely had to mention having a dry spell with the ladies, and not wanting to spend any coin at the local brothel after they had refused to let Geralt in, for Geralt to grunt out that he could just fuck anyone he wanted, so why even bother with a brothel? 

"That, my dear Witcher, isn't true. I can't have everyone I want, or otherwise I wouldn't be here right now." 

Geralt had rolled his eyes and looked around the tavern with a sigh that Jaskier hadn't quite known what to make off. "You could pick anyone here, woman or man, and they would probably go back to your room and let themselves be fucked by Jaskier the bard, just to boast." 

"Maybe I don't want to have people boast about bedding me," Jaskier had pouted, aware that he looked childish. "Maybe I want someone quiet and thoughtful who will let me take care of them and who won't be sloppy trying to pleasure me." 

Geralt had rolled his eye. "Now you're asking for too much of a town like that. There can't be anyone like this here." 

"There is always you," Jaskier had joked as he reordered himself a tankard of ale. "And we all know you-" 

"I'll do it." 

Jaskier had spit the ale that he had just drunk back into his new tankard. Geralt had looked somewhat disgruntled by the gesture but he hadn't said anything, simply extended one of the clothes that the maid had brought over. 

"Are you serious?" Jaskier had asked once he has stopped choking on air and ale. "Are you making your first joke?" 

"I'm not joking," Geralt growls. "If the idea of bedding me is so offensive you can simply say so instead of making fun of me." 

"Making fun? Oh darling never! I just didn't imagine that you would want to... well." Jaskier's ears warm up slightly. He has never been shy about sex before, but this is is Geralt. 

Geralt, to whom he has been madly attracted to since the minute he saw him in Posada. Geralt who has had him hard for hours on end after Jaskier was done washing him, helping him out of his armor or anything else like this. Geralt who has been the center of his fantasies for the last few months. 

But this is also Geralt, the White Wolf. Geralt who growls when Jaskier dares to complain that he misses civilization, Geralt who has let him be covered in mud for hours on end because "it covers your scent and monsters won't sense you, since you insist on fucking coming to hunts!". 

Now this is Geralt, crossing his arms and glaring at everyone but Jaskier, something strikingly similar to a pout on his lips. 

"You keep saying you need to fuck someone. I don't care being that one, if you'll stop complaining." 

"I mean, I don't... I would prefer if you wanted to um..." Jaskier is stuttering, blushing again. When has he ever been shy about sex before? 

"If what?" Geralt snaps, a bit annoyed, looking back at him. "You can fuck me. Was that not clear enough?" 

"I would prefer if you actually wanted it!" Jaskier half shouts, and the people at the tables near them turn their head towards them, clearly interested in the discussion. "Shit." 

He grabs Geralt's arms, throws enough coin on the table to cover what they drank and ate, and then drags his witcher upstairs, to the bedroom they share. 

It feels even odder here, in the enclosed space with only the two of them, but at the very least, there isn't anyone staring at them here. Just Geralt, and his golden eyes, and his imposing stature and... 

"Listen, it's really sweet of you," Jaskier whispers furiously, trying to not let his heart beat too fast at the very idea of being touched by Geralt. "But you can't just go around offering your body like this, especially to people you don't-" 

"Who said I don't want this?" Geralt growls and pushes Jaskier against the nearest wall, cornering him with his arms. They are about the same height, and their breaths mingle as Geralt gets unbearably close. Something tells the bard that his witcher is doing this on purpose, his eyes moving quickly to take in the small changes in Jaskier's behavior. "You're not the only one who hasn't fucked in a while, Jaskier. It just so happens I don't mind being fucked." 

Jaskier gulps, the mental image of Geralt spread out for him and begging for his cock coming up to the forefront of his mind. Geralt smirks, and Jaskier has a brief moment of fear that the Witcher can read his mind, but the man only leans in, his lips brushing Jaskier's ear. 

"I bet you couldn't make me beg," he whispers, and the barest hint of his teeth grazes against Jaskier's ear. 

Fuck. 

Jaskier's hands move faster than he can think and one of them grabs Geralt's half hard cock through his pants while the other reaches for the long white hair of his companion. 

"You want to bet, white wolf?" He can feel the thrill of doing this, of touching Geralt and feeling him shiver when he squeezes lightly. 

Geralt shivers, bites his own lips. He is big under Jaskier’s hand, and that’s only as he is half hard. The gods forgive him, Jaskier wants to feel that cock in his throat, and be absolutely obscene with it. There are so many things he has thought of that he might get tonight, and it’s nearly too much for him. Nearly. 

He tugs on the white hair again and squeezes the cock under his hand. “Come on Geralt, answer. You can at least grunt, can’t you? You were quite eloquent, offering to me to fuck you a few minutes ago.” 

A small noise makes its way out of Geralt’s throat and he half glares at Jaskier, his eyes clouded by a shroud of want. “Yeah, let’s bet. What’s at stake?” 

“If I win…” Jaskier ponders for a few seconds and then he grins. “If I win, I get to ride Roach tomorrow.” 

“And if you lose?” 

“I won’t,” Jaskier says, and he is unable to stop himself from biting lightly Geralt’s jaw. 

“But _if_ you do, what do I win?” Geralt asks, exposing his throat to Jaskier so that the bard has easier access. “Do I get to choose?” 

Jaskier sucks a mark at the base of Geralt’s neck, right next to the collar of his shirt, and he grins. “Sure, why not, witcher.” 

“If you lose,” Geralt says and rolls his hips so he can have more friction against Jaskier’s hand. “You won’t complain anymore about your luck with the ladies. And I get to fuck you too.”

Jaskier nearly growls at that, his mouth watering a bit at the idea of getting fucked by Geralt. Maybe Geralt would let him take control still, let him fuck himself on what is sure to be his giant cock.

“Fine,” Jaskier answers after another, smaller, bite for Geralt’s neck. “You’re on, witcher.” 

“Then try and make me beg, bard.” Geralt defies him, but his hips are still rolling and he is eager to be touched when Jaskier’s hand slip under his pants.

"Seems you're plenty eager on your own,"Jaskier teases and his hand wraps itself around Geralt's hard cock. "What I wouldn't give to have a taste of the mighty White Wolf." 

Geralt rolls his hips forward, a light groan escaping his throat. "Nothing is stopping you, bard." 

Jaskier smirks and his teeth graze Geralt's neck again. He slips his hand out of Geralt's pants, taking advantage of the man's slight surprise to push him backwards and near the bed. 

"Take off your pants," he orders, undoing his own doublet's lacing. It will be easier without it, and while he could get completely naked already, he doesn't quite want to. 

Geralt is surprisingly compliant. His fingers are fast at work on his breeches, and when he finally removes his leather pants, his cock tents his underwear and Jaskier's mouth waters at the sight. Even through this, Geralt's cock look magnificent, and while Jaskier knows that he isn't lacking in that department either, something tells him the Witcher mutations might have something to do with how well endowed Geralt is. 

"Should I remove anything else?" Geralt asks, and for the first time he is a bit hesitant, touching the frayed edges of his shirt. 

Jaskier hums, coming closer, and his hands push underneath Geralt's shirt, caressing the skin and every bump and scar he finds as he helps the Witcher take off his shirt. He knows Geralt's body, has massaged it more than once, and he even has bathed him. They have seen each other naked, covered in monster guts, completely shitfaced, but nothing has ever felt quite as intimate as this moment. Jaskier knows that he will cherish the memory of it his whole life, even if he cannot have Geralt ever again. He would feel guilty, but Geralt had been the one to offer, and he had seemed quite keen on the idea of getting fucked... And well. If Geralt can want this from a friend, then so can Jaskier. Even if he is head over heels in love with said friend and has been drowning his sorrow in alcohol and bought affections. 

"Satisfied now?" Geralt asks, his voice a deep rumble in Jaskier's ear. His still covered cock is pushing against Jaskier's hip with how close they are, and the bard grins. 

"Not quite, my witcher." His thumbs push at Geralt's underwear, and the witcher smiles, an ever so fleeting sight that disappears when Jaskier makes him sit on the edge of the bed. 

"What-" He starts, and then he stops himself as Jaskier kneels in front of him and licks the tip of his cock immediately. "Fuck." 

Jaskier can't wrap only one hand around his cock, and the idea of taking this inside his mouth makes him shiver. He thinks, half-madly, that if he had known this would be the result of his complains, he would have done so much sooner. A hand slips into his hair as his tongue plays with the tip, tasting the already present precum there. 

He looks up through his lashes, and Geralt groans a bit, before moving slightly. He reaches for a pillow and gives it to Jaskier, who gives him a confused look for a second or two before he realizes that Geralt, of all things, is worried about his knees. It is an endearingly sweet gesture, and Jaskier smiles softly as he lifts himself a bit, using Geralt's large thighs to hold himself before placing the pillow, and then sinking back on it to turn his attention back to his activity. 

He only gives licks and teasing gestures at first, enjoying the few noises he pulls from Geralt's throat. When he starts feeling the witcher grow impatient, he pulls back completely and bites at the inside of Geralt's thighs. He is leaving a trail of small bites there, marking Geralt as his, even for a night. He can almost trick himself into believing that this is his first time with Geralt, that he gets more than just this one time. He wishes it were so badly, can already imagine the soft declarations he would whisper into Geralt's skin, the praises and gentle words he would press into him. He would fuck him until he believed Jaskier's words, and until he could say nothing else but Jaskier's name. 

But they don't have this luxury tonight. They'll never have it. So Jaskier licks and bites and teases until he can feel Geralt's thighs tremble under his hands, and only then does he allow himself to take the tip of his cock in his mouth. 

He moans around it, unable to stop himself, and he slowly eases himself into taking into down his throat. It feels fucking heavenly. Jaskier could write poems upon poems about Geralt's weight in his mouth, the soft keen he lets out at finally being engulfed in the warm heat of Jaskier's mouth, or even the way his witcher's fingers tug on his hair.

Despite Geralt’s surprising eagerness, he doesn’t let the witcher take control of the situation. He alternates between keeping his cock in his mouth, fingers wandering underneath his balls to tease at his whole, which, unfailingly, elicits a loud moan from Geralt, and licking it, teasing with light grazing of his teeth every so often. It’s an utter delight to hear Geralt so responsive to him, to have Geralt be so deliciously loud in bed. 

He could never have guessed it, if he is honest with himself. In all the fantasies Jaskier has had of fucking Geralt, of being fucked by him, Geralt had always been rather silent. He finds that he loves the reality of it, the way Geralt loves it. 

There are many things Jaskier hadn’t considered in his fantasies. That it could become real, that it could be so much more than his dreams and wonderings, that Geralt might _want to be fucked by him_ , had definitely not made the list of things that could be made possible with some whining and an overeager need to please. Had he known that a dry spell with the ladies he usually found no difficulty surrounding himself with would lead to this, he would definitely have tried it sooner. 

Geralt tugs on his hair, a warning on his lips, but Jaskier grins and teases Geralt’s hole as he takes his cock fully in his mouth again. When Geralt comes, he moans, intentionally loud, and he looks at Geralt directly, a warm satisfaction running through him when he sees how thoroughly wretched Geralt already looks. 

His pupils are dilated, and a redness livens up his unnatural pale cheeks. His breathing is faster than usual, his chest falling up and down in a manner that Jaskier has come to associate with his hunting, not with him in bed. Though, what would he know of that. He has never been with Geralt in bed before now, has he? 

“I thought you were going to fuck me,” Geralt pants, his voice a bit rough. 

Jaskier is distracted briefly by the way Geralt’s lips shine as he wets them, faint mark of biting appearing there. He wants to bite him, to know what his lips taste like, what everything about him tastes like. He wants everything from Geralt, everything and more. He would consume him whole if it was possible, and there are days he feels an itch to just _take_. Geralt isn’t his, Geralt isn’t a thing to possess and protect, so Jaskier reins in his urges. 

He hates that side of him, the inhuman, monstrous one, that make him so needy when he loves. It’s an all consuming thing, that passion he has for Geralt. Hopefully, the way it has before, that fire that beats in his chest will diminish by the time they are done with each other tonight. Or well. By the time _Jaskier_ is done with Geralt. He couldn’t stand to hurt him, to make him feel controlled and possessed. Cursed at birth or not, Jaskier isn’t a monster, and he will never enslave anyone. 

“Is that your way of begging for me, dear witcher?” He purrs, slowly moving up and biting Geralt’s neck lightly. He will leave a mark elsewhere, where he knows that Geralt won’t mind it. “Because if so, I do believe that I have won a bet.” 

“I’m not begging,” Geralt grunts, his cock still hard when Jaskier climbs on his lap, feeling the tip against his ass. “Just stating a fact. And if you don’t hurry up, I’m going to take my own winnings of the bet.” 

Jaskier smirks and bites lower, pulling between his teeth Geralt’s nipple, and the man growls, his cock twitching. “Careful there, witcher. One could think you are getting impatient and aren’t so far from begging.” 

“Stop talking and fuck me,” Geralt snaps, his eyes so wide as he glares at Jaskier.

The bard chuckles fondly, and he stands up. “Place yourself on your knees then. I’ve got to get you ready first.” 

Once again, Geralt is more than eager to please, getting properly on the bed. Jaskier has to turn away as he fumbles out of his clothing properly, removing the last few layers he had kept on, and then moving towards his pack to gather the oil he uses on himself. When he gets back to the bed, Geralt is waiting on all four, his ass sticking out deliciously as he stretches. Jaskier feels that urge to _bite_ rise again through him. 

This time, he doesn’t resist it. When he gets on the bed, he reaches for Geralt’s ass and caresses it, feeling Geralt shiver from the gentle touch. The witcher doesn’t move tho, only throws a surprised glance over his shoulder. Jaskier smirks as he meets his eyes, and then he bites there, light enough that it won’t hurt, but enough so that Geralt will feel it for the marking that it is. 

Geralt _keens_ , throwing his head back inside his arms on the bed. Jaskier smirks. He might yet win this bet, although his reward is definitely less interesting than the one Geralt had wanted… He could lose the bet willingly, could fuck Geralt without waiting for him to beg, but well. He is a rather competitive man, despite all, and he has always loved winning. And if this is to happen only once, he wants to have good memories to think back onto the next time he needs to take care of himself on his own. 

He bites again, harder and higher, and Geralt lets out a high pitched noise. Again, Jaskier bites, and again, until Geralt’s ass has been marked a few times over. There are even some that will stay and bruise. He tries to ignore the feeling of pride and possessiveness rising through him. The very idea of Geralt being his, only his to fuck and love, makes him achingly hard. 

Geralt is panting by the time he is done, touching his cock and groaning in between two needy intakes of air. 

“Ready to beg yet, my wolf?” Jaskier asks, opening the vial of oil and pouring some on his fingers, warming it up. “Or should I play with you a little more?” 

There is a few seconds of panting, and Geralt lets go of his cock, clearly trying to restrain himself as he grips the sheets. 

“I’m not begging,” he rasps out. “I’m not losing our bet.”

Jaskier can’t help the chuckle that comes out of his throat, bending slightly again to kiss his witcher’s back. “Of course not, dear. But remember, I’m also not losing. You _will_ beg by the end of tonight.” 

“Assuming you can last that long,” Geralt manages to say as he moans loudly. 

Jaskier has pushed a finger inside of him, slow and tentative, doing his best not to hurt Geralt. The witcher doesn’t offer too much resistance, which is definitely a surprise, and Jaskier teases his rim a bit, trying to see if there is a sensitivity there. Geralt shivers and bites the sheets, trying his best to contain his sounds, but Jaskier is already onto him. 

“Oh, you like this, don’t you?” He teases it with his thumb a bit more, keeping his movements rather light as he leaves a finger inside Geralt. “You like your ass being played with, don’t you Geralt? So interesting, seeing you moaning like this, your body aching for a cock, for more, when you are so hellbent on not begging for it. You’ve touched yourself recently, haven’t you?” 

Geralt doesn’t answer, groaning as Jaskier teases the tip of a second finger. 

“You’re already loose. Did you fuck yourself on your fingers while I was playing this morning? Listening to me sing through the walls and imagined I was singing for you, just to fuck you? Did you think that your fingers were my cock, pumping in and out of you, filling you up?” 

The flow of dirty thoughts that Jaskier had always kept to himself runs free now, as Geralt squirms and pushes himself back on his fingers. Still, when after a minute or two he doesn’t receive any response, Jaskier removes his fingers completely, and Geralt groans, turning an angry glare to him. 

“Why did you stop?” He asks angrily. “Don’t want to fuck me anymore?” 

“I asked you a few questions,” Jaskier smirks, pushing Geralt’s knees apart even more, so that his ass is completely spread out and he is almost rutting on the bed. It must be a bit uncomfortable, he thinks idly, but Geralt only moves his hips to seek more friction for his cock. “If you want this to continue, you’ll have to answer.”

“I thought you were the one who needed to fuck?” Geralt is almost convincing, but the incessant thrust of his hips against the bed shows how eager to come again he is. 

Keeping his hands firm and heavy on Geralt’s lower back, Jaskier settles himself above Geralt. Geralt’s legs are spread uncomfortably wide, and he pushes his cock against Geralt’s ass, letting the tip of it catch on Geralt’s loosened hole. The witcher’s breath hitches and he tries snapping his hips upward, to get Jaskier’s cock in him, but the bard doesn’t budge. 

“Answer me, and I’ll make you come,” Jaskier whispers in his ear, one hand sneaking to twist Geralt’s nipple, extracting a whimper from the witcher. “Did you play with yourself this morning?” 

Geralt gasps and groans, his face a bright red now. “Yes! Fuck, yes, I did. You were singing and I thought about how nice it would be to get fucked for once. You’ve been whining about how little action you’ve been getting for days and I just couldn’t stand it anymore, I needed to get the image out of my head.” 

“So you fucked yourself like that, listening to me making others happy with my voice?” 

“Fuck, Jaskier, stop being a tease and fuck me!” 

“Now, now, that sounds oddly like begging…” Jaskier grins and moves away from Geralt’s back, keeping his ass under his hands. “Are you admitting defeat just yet, mighty witcher?” 

“Fuck you,” Geralt spits, looking at him from over his shoulders. “I’m not begging.” 

Jaskier hums, one hand coming to tug on Geralt’s hair the way he has always wanted to do. “You will.” 

“You are oddly sure of yourself for someone who hasn’t even managed to do the one thing he said he would do,” Geralt growls. 

“My, my, aren’t we touchy tonight,” Jaskier laughs. “But you are right. I still have to make you beg before fucking you. And since you’ve been such a good witcher for me, I’ll even throw in a little surprise.” 

He lowers himself completely again and licks a line on Geralt’s ass, his tongue going over the witcher’s hole. Geralt whimpers again, and Jaskier would stop, worried of having gone too far, were it not for the heady scent of lust and need that surrounds Geralt. The witcher might deny it, but his whole body is begging for more, begging to be fucked and made Jaskier’s. Stubborn little thing. 

He licks and pushes his tongue inside Geralt, sometimes adding a finger. Geralt squirms and moans, moving his ass against Jaskier’s mouth, and it doesn’t take much longer for him to come. Jaskier’s hand wraps around his cock, and he comes for the second time that evening, his voice all but broken by the amount of moans he has let out already. 

Still, Jaskier doesn’t stop his ministrations. Geralt is trembling, his fingers gripping the sheets so tightly that he tears at it. 

“Fuck, Jaskier, come on! Fuck me,” Geralt growls, his flushed face and dilated pupils giving him a wild air, even more so than usual. Jaskier has a brief thought as to how it would be to fuck Geralt while he is under his potions. Would he be more sensitive?

“Are you begging, Geralt?” Jaskier asks in a singsong voice, biting Geralt’s ass. “Are you admitting defeat yet, White Wolf?” 

“Yes, fine! Fuck me, please, come on!” 

“Well, if you are asking so nicely…” 

Jaskier pours some more oil in his hand, preparing himself as well, before he lines himself up with Geralt’s hole. When the tip of his cock enters Geralt, he groans, unable to resist pressing a kiss to Geralt’s back. Geralt pants, pushing back on his cock, still eager to be fucked, and Jaskier can only comply, pushing deeper until he is fully inside Geralt. 

He has to take a few seconds to breathe, holding Geralt down so that the witcher will not move and make him come before he wants to. 

“You feel so good love,” he says, unable to resist the endearment, and he silently prays that Geralt didn’t hear him. 

Though, considering the wide-eyed look he receives, with none of the raw pleasure and all of the surprise, he is guessing that it would really have been pushing his luck. 

“Wait, what did-“ Geralt is interrupted by a powerful thrust of Jaskier’s hips, driving his cock even further into Geralt and making him moan louder than ever before. 

“You’re so fucking noisy,” Jaskier says appreciatively, setting a rough pace as he fucks his witcher. It’s nearly overwhelming, the sensation of Geralt around him, the knowledge that this really is Geralt and not some man Jaskier found who had a similar built and no complaint about getting fucked. “You keep making all those noises, driving me crazy. Makes me want to wreck you, to make you unable to walk for days. You would like that, wouldn’t you? Being so well fucked that you are completely out of things, and even your body forces you to rest. Maybe then I would fuck you again, all slow and gentle. You would get so impatient, I bet. You’re a needy one, always wants everything at once, can’t enjoy the things you’re given.” 

“Teach me then,” Geralt begs, snapping his hips back in an effort to keep up with Jaskier. “Come on, show me, fuck me hard and then show me how you would do it.”

Jaskier chuckles and drives deep inside of Geralt again, and judging by the way the man cries out, he must hit a rather sweet spot. 

“I thought this was a one night only type of deal,” he says. “I get this fucking out of my system and then I leave you alone?” 

Geralt growls again, louder than before, and he throws an angry glare at Jaskier. “If you think I’m not making you fuck me again after this, you’re stupider than I thought.” 

At the seriousness of both Geralt’s tone and eyes, Jaskier can’t help himself. He thrusts a few more times inside of Geralt, his hands holding the witcher’s hips in a bruising grip, and then he is spilling inside of the man. He has been waiting for what feels like days to allow himself to come, and with only a few words, Geralt has him undone. 

Geralt isn’t far behind. He fucks himself on Jaskier’s cock while the bard rides out his orgasm, a hand tight around his cock, and when he comes it’s with a loud cry. It takes a second for Jaskier to realize that Geralt called out his name as he came, almost begging once more. His name screamed in Geralt’s rough, pleasure-filled voice echoes in Jaskier’s mind, and he doesn’t know how to deal with the reality of the moment. He is the one who made Geralt come three times tonight, he is the one for whom Geralt begged. 

When he slips out of Geralt, the witcher attempts a protest, tightening around Jaskier’s cock in an attempt to keep him inside of him. 

“I don’t have your witcher stamina,” Jaskier chuckles. “Give me a little bit, at the very least.” 

Geralt hums happily at that, looking over his shoulders and his eyes settle warmly on Jaskier. “That a promise?” 

Now that the thrill of fucking Geralt has fallen a little bit, that Jaskier feels fully back in control of himself, he finds it hard to answer that question. He wants to say yes, wants to say that he will fuck Geralt as much as the witcher wants him to, but he can’t. His heart is already heavy with the possibility that he might only be just that, someone else who has fucked the great White Wolf, that he won’t get to tell Geralt that no, this wasn’t just one night for him. Geralt might have wanted more in the heat of the moment, but Jaskier has met plenty of people who will say whatever they think the person in bed wants to hear to get what they want. 

He must have stayed frozen longer than he thought, because Geralt frowns, turning so that he is now on his back, and with a bit of a grunt, the witcher sits up. 

“Jaskier?” He comes closer to the bard. “What’s going on? You can say no if you don’t want to.” 

“No! I mean, yes, I want to,” Jaskier bursts out. 

Geralt’s frown deepens and he takes Jaskier’s face in one of his hand. “Then why do you look so sad?” 

“I don’t,” Jaskier tries to protest, but even his voice is thick with unshed tears. Fuck. “I just. I need to know something, okay?” 

Geralt nods, serious, and his thumb rubs reassuring circles on Jaskier’s cheek. The sensation is so warm and pleasant, something that makes Jaskier ache for so much more. His hope that fucking Geralt would make him feel less possessive and needy is quickly dying. If anything, he wants Geralt even more than before. He wants to taste his lips and see how Geralt looks when he comes; he wants to wake up with Geralt in his arms, not accidentally or because they only have one bed, but because it feels right to sleep this way. His whole body and soul are aching to love Geralt and be loved by him. 

“Why did you really offer to do this?” He asks, a bit embarrassed by his own bluntness. “What was in it for you? You’ve listened to me complain for far longer than an evening.” 

With a chuckle, Geralt lifts Jaskier and brings him onto his lap. “Is that what you are so worried about?” 

“Well, what, yes! You, this-“ 

“At loss for words, bard?” Geralt pushes a few strands of hair away from Jaskier’s forehead. “I thought you would have understood by now. Very well. I asked for this because I wanted to.” 

Jaskier makes a confused noise, both at what Geralt is saying and at the tender gesture. The witcher smiles, a soft thing that has Jaskier’s heart flutter, and he presses a kiss to the bard’s shoulder. 

“You kept talking about wanting to be with someone, and I thought I would never have a chance in a thousand years. But then you joked and it was out of my mouth before I could really think about what I was saying. And you were reluctant at first but I… I really wanted to know what it was like, to be one of the people in your bed, one of the people you sing about loving and fucking and… It was a bit selfish, and I thought you didn’t want more than a quick fuck, but then, you called me _love_. You never call me that, or anyone else.” 

“I don’t,” Jaskier nods, bemused at where the conversation is going. Is this all a dream, one beautiful dream from which he will wake up sooner or later? 

“And well. I thought that meant perhaps… You felt something more than friendship for me as well.” 

Jaskier chokes on air a little. “ _As well_?” 

Geralt’s cheeks redden again, and it is quickly becoming one of Jaskier’s favourite sights in the world. Forget soaring above the sea in winter, snowflakes falling into his magically crafted wings, the soft blush on Geralt’s face, complimenting his golden eyes and white hair, is a much more enticing sight. 

“I have feelings for you,” the witcher mumbles. “I thought you knew now.” 

Jaskier looks at him, mouth agape. Geralt has _feelings for him_? 

“Of course if you don’t-“ 

“Are you kidding? Of course I do!” Jaskier answers eagerly, and he half wants to stop to marvel at the hopeful, happy look in Geralt’s eyes. “Geralt, half of the love songs I’ve written are almost explicitly about you! I’ve only gone with men that reminded me of you in the last two years. It’s ridiculous how much I love you!” 

Geralt’s answering smile is blinding. “You love me.” 

“I- Yes.” 

“I love you too.” 

It takes a few seconds for Jaskier to register what Geralt has just said. Geralt’s fond look doesn’t fade away during this time. It lights up his whole face, and Jaskier can’t help himself. He leans forward, capturing Geralt’s lips in his own. The whole time, he clings to Geralt, and Geralt’s hands settle on his waist, holding him tightly. 

When they break apart, Geralt hums contentedly, and presses a light kiss to Jaskier’s lips again. 

“Well, I suppose that solves that,” Jaskier mutters, feeling himself blush again. 

“I suppose it does,” Geralt chuckles. 

Jaskier is still staring at him wide eyed when he remembers exactly _what_ they were doing right before. 

“Oh! We need to clean you up!” 

Geralt laughs this time, and he kisses Jaskier once more. “Yes, that would be nice. Although, if you do intend on following up on your earlier promise, I don’t think a thorough cleaning is in order.” 

“Oh, I intend to,” Jaskier grins, confident again now that he knows he has Geralt, that he is Geralt’s too. “I absolutely intend to, my lovely witcher.” 

Geralt grins back and stands up, lifting Jaskier in his arms. “Good.” 

There will be more time to talk, more time to explore what this will mean for them. For now, Jaskier is more interested in taking care of Geralt though, and he bites at the neck, his fangs coming out lightly. 

The loud moan he receives is interesting, and he grins. He doesn’t think Geralt will have any issues with his inhumanness. 

**Author's Note:**

> I hope yall liked it! leave a kudos/comment if you did :D you can also find me on tumblr (@saltytransidiot)!


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